


home is wherever i'm with you

by stuckyasfucky



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:34:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8904397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckyasfucky/pseuds/stuckyasfucky
Summary: Lance is homesick, but he finds ways to cope. (Also, Keith pines, Lance is wholeheartedly oblivious, and everyone has a dumb sense of humor.)





	

_There are so many stars_ , Lance thinks, and yeah, no _shit_ , there are a ton of stars in the sky. Well, universe. But it’s one thing to intellectually know that there are hundreds of thousands of stars in the universe, and another thing to see them. To be immersed in the great unknown. To watch them float by you, one after another. Yes, being in outer space is awesome. Yes, living on a spaceship with a super hot alien princess is mind-blowingly amazing. But Lance feels unanchored. 

On Earth, space is untouchable. A looming, fantastical novelty that you know can never be fully explained, but you still have that foolish dream that you’ll understand it someday, and be immersed in its inky, sparkling glory. But you know that the ground beneath you is solid and steady. On Earth, you know which way is up and how the sun works and why the sky is blue. Lance thought he wanted to go out into the universe and unlock its secrets. And he’s finally here, fighting and training and learning out in space. 

It’s terrifying. You can walk and run and jump on Earth without feeling like the metal under your feet will crumble away and you’ll topple out into nothingness. He feels too exposed and claustrophobic at the same time. Everything is surreal, and any moment Lance expects to wake up in the barracks, Hunk snoring like a chainsaw in the bed underneath him. It hasn’t happened yet. 

Sleeping helps. Music helps. The various Altean soaps and lotions and oils are nice, too. He likes feeling soft, in this sharp-edged chrome machine. He likes how they smell and he likes how smoothly they spread over his skin. He indulges in small comforts, falling asleep early and napping often. Stealing Pidge’s headphones and thanking any deity that’s listening for the iPod he had in his jacket pocket when his whole life turned upside down. Reveling in the familiar patterns the guitars make and the steady drumbeat. 

The team gets frustrated with him. He’s scolded for being late to team exercises, for taking forever in the shower, for not training hard enough. But Lance would rather eat his helmet than explain why he is the way he is. Why he talks all the time, why he craves touch and attention and love. He wonders what they really think of him. 

He thinks Hunk regards him with friendship and fond exasperation. Pidge thinks he’s an idiot, but she’s warming up to him. Allura is generally baffled by him, and out of everyone, Coran probably understands him best. He thinks of Keith, and what Keith probably thinks of him. Lazy, pathetic. An unmemorable cargo pilot who got lucky. 

Looking out of the observation deck into the vast unknown, Lance isn’t sure whether those thoughts are Keith’s or his own. He isn’t sure about a lot of things. Why did the Blue Lion pick him? How was he so lucky as to make his connection first? Why didn’t he let Allura describe the Blue Lion? (Because what if it was the worst one? What if it was spineless and cowardly and lazy and-)

The silver door slides open with a soft hiss. It startles Lance out of his thoughts, but he doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t really care who it is. He hears the tapping of booted feet on metal. There’s a pause.

“Lance?”

On second thought, maybe he does care. “Keith?” He turns, and Keith looks strangely hesitant. 

“Oh, uh, I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” he moves to leave. “I can come back.”

“Wait, no!” Lance scrambles to his feet, and rubs the back of his neck. Keith looks back at him, his expression unreadable. Lance can feel his cheeks growing hot, “I’ve been in here a while, I should probably go do something. . .productive.”

Keith fully faces forward now. “You sure?”

“Yeah, totally.”

As Lance is walking out, his shoulder brushes Keith’s. “Oh, sorry, dude.” He looks back, and Keith’s cheeks are the same color as his lion. “Hey, are you ok-” The door slides shut. “-ay.” Lance stands in front of the door for a moment, and then walks down the hall shaking his head. _Weird._

He jams his hands in his pockets and goes to his room. He stands in the middle of it, unsure of what to do. He could take a nap, after all, his inner clock is so screwed up his body isn’t certain when to go to sleep or when to wake up. He could visit Hunk in the kitchen; last they talked, Hunk was trying to make peanut butter and failing miserably. He feels tired, but there is also a coil of energy inside of him, waiting to be released. _Too much time on edge_ , he supposes. Then it hits him. _Train_. Duh. He takes off his jacket and changes into the clothes he typically wears underneath his space armor. _Space armor, how fucking cool is that_. He grabs his bayard as an afterthought and strolls into the training room. Empty and white, it makes him feel almost like he’s inside of an eggshell. He smiles a little to himself. His littlest sister would adore the idea of being inside an egg. 

He imagines it, her wide, brown eyes lighting up and her sweet little mouth pulling into a big grin. A wave of intense homesickness hits him and he tears up. Man, he hopes she’s okay. He feels lost and alone in the big, new world he’s been thrown into. But he steels himself, _this is why you’re fighting, this is why you’re training_. He shakes it off, and is determined to do his part to save the goddamn universe. 

He walks up to a machine that looks like you might walk or run on it and gingerly runs his hands over the controls. It lights up, the strange Altean letters flashing cheerily on the screen. On a whim he pushes a button, and the foot pedals beep demandingly at him. He steps on tentatively. It seems to be some sort of mix between an elliptical and a stepper, so he starts pumping his legs. Slowly, but surely he speeds up until he finds the right pace. It’s exerting and mind-numbing. Perfect. He isn’t sure how long he goes, but by the time he needs to take a break, he is panting and his long-sleeved shirt is sticking to his torso. _Gross_. He peels it off, wrinkling his nose at the damp, black garment. He tosses it to the floor, and isn’t sure what to do next. There aren’t any weights in the room, which is just as well. Lance has never been a great lifter. He’s more of a track guy. He remembers suddenly a gruesome core workout his devilish coach had once given his team. _Might as well_.

Lance drops to the floor. He does Russian twists and leg lifts and scissor kicks and anything else he can think of. His core aches, but he keeps going. His stomach trembles, and is slick with sweat. He doesn’t stop. He goes and goes, and then his arms start slipping, and his hair is in his eyes, and irritably, he stands up to get a towel. He grabs one off of a rack and musses his hair with it, dries his face, and then stands for a minute with it draped around his neck. Out of the corner of his eye he sees movement. He turns, and the door shuts. For a moment of sheer panic, he thinks the castle is going crazy again. Then he peeks out the door and hears fading footsteps and breathes a sigh of relief. Whoever it was probably hit the sensor by accident.

He goes back into the room, and makes a beeline for the water dispenser placed neatly against the wall. He downs a few gulps, and relaxes. He feels easy and confident; better than he has in awhile. Satisfied with himself, Lance heads to the showers. 

Say what you will about Alteans and their freaky science/magic voodoo shit, but damn do those aliens know how make a shower. The water pressure is perfect, the water always manages to be just right temperature, and Lance melts as soon as he switches it on.  
He takes a longer shower than usual, savoring the feeling of the hot water pouring over his tired muscles. 

He wraps a clean towel around his waist, and heads to his room. He rounds a corner, and Keith is going the opposite direction, probably going to the common area or the bridge. 

“Hey Keith, what’s up?” Lance asks. Keith seems to be lost in thought, zoned out somewhere around Lance’s stomach. Lance rolls his eyes. “Heeelllloooooo? Earth to Keith, do you copy?”

Keith looks up quickly and flushes bright red. “What do you want, Lance?” He snaps, stopping in his tracks. 

“Whatcha doin’?” Lance asks, coyly.

Keith looks unamused.

“Oh c’mon, Keith! Phineas and Ferb? That show was the bomb, dude,” Lance says, waving his arms around animatedly. Keith is determinedly not looking at Lance. He starts walking faster, and Lance jogs to catch up. “Did you not watch that show? Who didn’t watch that show?”

Keith stops, turns, and glaring at Lance says, “Go put some pants on.”

Lance puts his hands on his hips. “What?!” He exclaims. “Do you not appreciate my excellent bod, Keith? I’m hurt and offended.” Keith grumbles something under his breath. 

Lance grins and punches his shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, man. Hold on, and let me get dressed. I’ll walk with you.”

With that, Lance turns and jogs back down the hallway. “You don’t even know where I’m going, you asshole!” Keith yells. It echos, and Lance just waves. 

He pulls his clothes on and hurries back out the door. The chances that Keith actually waited for him are slim, but he’s in a good mood, all the exercise endorphins buzzing around in his head. He’s whistling as he walks, some old song his mom loved, and is pleasantly surprised to see Keith waiting for him. He’s leaning with his back against the wall, lost in his own thoughts again. Lance approaches him.

“So, where are we going?” Lance asks. 

Keith jerks out of his thoughts and hits his head on the wall behind him. He lets out a little yelp, which is surprisingly adorable. Wait, hold on. Lance does a mental double-take. Adorable? Keith is a lot of things, passionate and tough to swallow and admittedly _hot_ , but adorable seems a little far fetched. 

Lance looks at Keith, his flushed cheeks and the clump of black hair he’s currently brushing out of his eyes. Okay, he’s a little adorable. Lance smiles. 

“Well?”

“Well, _what_?” Keith replies peevishly. 

“Where are we _going_ , you doof? I already asked you once, you know,” Lance teases. 

“Oh, right,” Keith says, less harshly. “I was gonna go see if Hunk managed to figure out peanut butter yet.”

“Aw, sweet!” Lance exclaims, and they start walking in the direction of the kitchen. 

After a moment of silence, Keith speaks. “So,” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat hurriedly. “So, what did you do to be productive? After you left the observation deck?”

“Oh, I went to the training deck for a workout. It’s been awhile, but it felt good, you know?” Lance says offhandedly.

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. “Hey, you know, we should start working out together.”

Lance looks at him. “Really? The two of us?”

Keith withdraws a little bit. “Well, I figured we’re about the same lifting-wise.”

 _Oh, duh_. “Huh, that’s pretty logical actually. Yeah, that sounds great.”

Keith smiles, and Lance thinks _awww_. He’s never going to be able to take Keith brooding seriously ever again now that he’s seen the little ray of sunshine he is on the inside. 

They’re approaching the kitchen, so Lance turns away from Keith and yells, “Hey Hunk! Have you made any peanut butter yet?”

As if summoned by a spell, Pidge peeps around a corner. “Did someone say peanut butter?”

Keith looks over at Pidge, still smiling like the cute little motherfucker he is. “Hunk’s trying to make some right now.”

Hunk comes out of the kitchen, scowling. “Aw, you guys! That was supposed to be a surprise!”

Pidge looks like Christmas came early. “Was it for my birthday?” She asks excitedly. 

Hunk softens as he looks at her. “Yeah, but it’s not done yet. Still a little bit fruity, which is super weird.”

Pidge faces Keith and Lance, hands on her hips, and says, “Hunk is the best human, am I right or am I right?”

“You’re right.” they say in unison. 

Hunk blushes, and the phenomenon becomes the focus of their attentions for a solid five minutes. 

They migrate to the dining room with a few space juice pouches, and settle into the couches. 

Keith plops next to Lance, just a little bit closer than he normally would, but Lance notices immediately. 

There’s a light dusting of pink across his cheeks, which Lance finds incredibly endearing. They aren’t touching, but they’re close enough that Lance can feel how warm Keith is. He smells kind of nice, too, though it's not something Lance can explain. Lance wonders why he’s ever tried to make a rival out of Keith, tried to pick a fight where there is none. This boy is made from metal and fire, yes, but he is soft and bright and good, and that never quite sunk in for Lance until just now. Lance is lucky to know him. 

“Lance, buddy, you okay?” Hunk asks, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Yeah, dude, sorry, I was just zoning out,” Lance replies easily. “Did I miss anything?”

“THIS DICK,” Pidge shouts immediately. 

“Oh, thank God, I thought it was something big,” Lance says, and then the two of them burst into laughter. 

“Will you two ever stop that?” Keith asks wryly. 

“Will it ever stop being funny?” Lance shoots back. 

“Lance, that stopped being funny, like, eight years ago,” Hunk says from the other side of the room.

Pidge and Lance gasp. “E tu, Hunk?” Lance cries, his hand flying to his chest.

“The ultimate betrayal,” Pidge whispers, pressing her hands flat against each other and placing them just under her nose. 

“Oh my god, you guys are such _memes_ -” Hunk says irritably, and then is interrupted by Keith chuckling.

It starts out softly, but soon enough, Keith is cracking up, shaking next to Lance. It spreads like wildfire, Pidge giggling into her hands and Hunk snickering just at the sheer novelty of Keith laughing so openly for so long. 

Lance takes a moment to look at him, to take in the full glow of Keith’s unadulterated happiness, before he caves in to his own bout of laughter. 

“Why are you even laughing, Keith,” Pidge says, stifling a laugh. 

“You guys are so _ridiculous_.” Keith is still laughing, burying his face into his hands. He pops back up, his mullet flying. His laughter subsides, and he looks at some point in the distance. 

“It was so _dramatic_ , like it’s such a dumb joke, but you looked so offended, oh my God,” he whispers, and then loses it again. 

That sets the rest of the group off, and Shiro, Allura, and Coran walk into the common room to find three Paladins of Voltron crying on the floor. 

“Defenders of the Universe, my ass,” Shiro mutters, louder than he thought, and then everyone is laughing, and Lance feels like the ground underneath him is a little steadier.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
